With the Thunder Raptor lying defeated, Tytus had proven his mastery over the elements and most likely blown any chance he had for winning the competition. His power was undeniable and his lacking stamina when it came to spirit consumption was even more so. Each of his abilities, from the Tempestuous Fury that summoned the storm to the Gale Force that deflected attacks, was a testament to his raw elemental power and high spirit expenditure. His Lightning Surge and Tremor’s Might had crippled the beast, showing just how dangerous he could be when in control of both the sky and the earth.
Sorin did note that Tytus had at least held back a tad, not using his Tempest’s Command spell that allowed Tytus to shape his magic into various natural disasters far more effective than causing the ground to crack in an area or have a few storm clouds send down a lightning bolt. Sorin had witnessed this spell once from Tytus when he had been practicing it and Tytus had flooded the entire training ground. Tytus had told Sorin that the spirit consumption was massive and exponentially increased as he increased the power of the spell.
After the break, Jackson was the only one left to take his turn in the rotation. As they walked through the thick underbrush of the forest, Jackson grew increasingly nervous, his anxiety manifesting in a steady stream of complaints.
“I still don’t understand why I have to fight,” Jackson muttered. “I’m an illusionist, not some battle-crazed brute like the rest of you. This isn’t fair!”
Sorin, Diego, and Tytus exchanged amused glances, each clearly enjoying Jackson’s melodramatic resistance. Torrid, as usual, said nothing but smirked as Jackson continued to vent his frustrations.
“You’ll be fine,” Sorin said, trying to reassure him. “You’ve seen us all handle these beasts. Besides, we’ll be right here if anything goes wrong.”
Diego added in his calm, matter-of-fact tone, “It’s part of the competition, Jackson. Can’t back out now.”
Jackson groaned dramatically. “I could, you know. I could just bow out gracefully and—"
“Nope!” Tytus interrupted, clapping Jackson on the back so hard he nearly stumbled. “You’re up next, buddy. And don’t worry, once you show that beast what you can do, you’ll feel great. Trust me.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “Great, sure. And if I die, just know I’ll haunt all of you.”
The group moved forward, and soon they heard the distinct sounds of movement. Emerging from the shadows of the forest was their next target: a Steelhide Boar, a large, tusked creature with thick, metallic skin that glinted ominously in the fading light. It was known for its incredible toughness and its ferocity when cornered. The beast snorted aggressively, its breath visible in the cool air as it pawed the ground, preparing to charge.
Jackson’s face drained of color. “Oh no. Nope. Absolutely not. Do you see how big that thing is? And its skin is made of metal! That’s just… no. I’m not doing this.”
Sorin stepped forward, his tone firm but encouraging. “Jackson, you’ve got this. We’re right here. Just use your illusions—keep it confused.”
Torrid folded his arms, staring down at Jackson. “You act like coward. Go forth and fight.”
Jackson shot him a glare, but there was no escape. He sighed heavily, pulling out his wand in one hand and a small knife in the other. “Fine. But if I die, I’m blaming all of you.”
The Steelhide Boar charged with a deafening roar, its tusks gleaming as it barreled toward Jackson.
Thinking quickly, Jackson raised his wand and activated Phantom Army. Suddenly, the forest was filled with the sounds of clashing warriors, as illusionary figures—all lifelike and fully armored—appeared around Jackson. The Steelhide Boar skidded to a halt, confused as the battlefield filled with dozens of opponents. It swung its head wildly, trying to find its real target, but each time its tusks collided with an illusionary warrior, the figure disappeared in a wisp of light.
Jackson smirked nervously, taking a step back. “That should keep it busy for a minute.”
The Steelhide Boar snarled in frustration, swiping at one phantom after another, but to no avail. Realizing that its attacks were hitting nothing, it began charging through the phantoms, heading straight for Jackson.
Jackson paled. “Uh, guys? Little help here?”
“Do it, Jackson!” Tytus shouted, cheering him on from the sidelines. “This is your moment!”
Muttering curses under his breath, Jackson quickly activated Deceptive Doppelganger, creating a perfect illusion of himself that stepped forward to confront the Steelhide Boar. The doppelganger moved, spoke, and gestured just like Jackson, drawing the boar’s attention as it charged. The creature roared and smashed into the illusionary copy, which staggered back, playing its role perfectly. Jackson, hiding behind a tree, controlled the doppelganger from a distance, watching as the Steelhide Boar attempted to gore the fake Jackson.
Once the boar was distracted, Jackson took a deep breath and activated Fleeting Illusion, his body dissolving into an indistinct, ghostly form. He swiftly darted around the boar, passing through trees and rocks as though they weren’t there, until he repositioned himself behind the beast.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Jackson muttered, emerging from his intangible state. He pointed his wand at the ground beneath the Steelhide Boar and activated Illusionary Snare.
Suddenly, the ground beneath the boar’s feet shifted and warped, as if it were being sucked into a pit of darkness. The boar snorted in confusion as it stumbled into the illusory trap, trying to claw its way out. But every time it tried to move, the illusion made it appear as though the ground beneath it was crumbling, trapping it in place.
Jackson took the opportunity to strike, though with great reluctance. With a flick of his wand, he sent a concentrated blast of illusionary magic into the boar’s mind, further disorienting the creature as it thrashed helplessly in the snare. The Phantom Army still danced around it, adding to the confusion.
“Okay, this has to work,” Jackson muttered. With a deep breath, he hurled his small knife at the creature, aiming for its unprotected neck. The blade struck true, finding the gap between the Steelhide Boar’s metal-like plates. The boar let out one last roar before collapsing to the ground, completely overwhelmed by the illusions and finally defeated.
Jackson stood there for a moment, stunned by his own success. The Steelhide Boar lay motionless, its mighty form felled by his quick thinking and illusions. He looked at the others, still clutching his wand.
“Well,” he said, breathing heavily. “That was horrible. I almost died.”
The group burst into laughter as they approached him, patting him on the back in congratulations.
“You didn’t even get hit!” Sorin laughed. “You handled that perfectly.”
Tytus was grinning ear to ear. “I told you! You’ve got more fight in you than you think. That was impressive.”
Jackson gave them a sarcastic smile, clearly still shaken. “Sure. Yeah. Impressive. Let’s just pretend I wasn’t about five seconds from having a heart attack the whole time.”
Diego, his voice calm as always, nodded approvingly. “Your illusions were flawless. The boar didn’t stand a chance once it was disoriented.”
Jackson shook his head, still muttering complaints. “I’m not doing that again. Once was more than enough.”
Despite his grumbling, Jackson had proven himself capable of handling the fight, using his illusions to outwit and confuse the Steelhide Boar. His connection to Caligo*, the God of Illusions and Lies, was evident in every spell he cast. From the Phantom Army to the Illusionary Snare, he had masterfully manipulated reality to gain the upper hand. And while Jackson might not have had the raw power of his friends, his cleverness and trickery had won the day.
As the group prepared to continue their hunt, Jackson glared at the others, still annoyed. “I swear, if I have to do that again, I’m definitely haunting all of you. Diego will not be able to protect you by praying to Grimm to send me into the afterlife peacefully.”
Sorin smiled. “Come on, Jackson. You’ll be fine. You handled the last beast perfectly fine, what's a few more?”
Jackson groaned. “Great. More near-death experiences. Just what I needed.”
The forest suddenly became eerily quiet. Sorin, ever alert, noticed movement in the trees ahead. Moments later, a group of students emerged from the shadows, each wearing the uniform of another academy. Emerging from the shadows were five students, all dressed in the unmistakable uniform of the Silverblade Masters, a rival academy known for their focus on swordsmanship and speed. Their attire was sleek and sharp, with silver-trimmed tunics and high-collared black cloaks embroidered with a gleaming sword and spear emblem. The silver blades they carried reflected their academy's mastery of swordplay and precision strikes.
The leader of the group was a tall, athletic young man with a mane of silver hair, his piercing gray eyes scanning Sorin’s group with a smug, dismissive glance. He had a long, curved sword strapped across his back and carried himself with the swagger of someone who had never faced defeat. His silver cloak billowed slightly as he stopped, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.
To his right stood a girl with short black hair, her eyes cold and calculating. She held a pair of thin, twin blades at her sides, and the air around her crackled with barely restrained energy. Her expression was one of impatience, as if she considered Sorin’s group beneath her.
Flanking them were two more students—twin brothers with close-cropped brown hair, each wielding a pair of short swords. They moved with fluid, synchronized precision, their movements so perfectly aligned it was clear they had trained together for years.
The final member of the group was a brawny, scarred young man carrying a massive greatsword on his back. His face twisted into a sneer as he looked over Torrid with particular disdain, his muscles tensing as if eager for a fight.
It was immediately clear they didn’t belong here. The Silverblade Masters had their own hunting grounds, and this area—under the control of Warbringer Academy—was strictly off-limits to them. Sorin and his friends knew the rules well, and it was a direct insult to find these rivals in their territory.
The silver-haired leader* stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Look what we have here. Warbringer Academy’s top students, I assume?” His voice was smooth but laced with sarcasm, and the others behind him chuckled softly.
Tytus, ever quick to confront a challenge, immediately stepped forward, his brow furrowed in anger. “What the hell are you doing here? This is Warbringer territory. You know you’re not supposed to be here.”
The short-haired girl smirked, lazily twirling one of her blades between her fingers. “Oh, please. You think we care about your pathetic little boundaries? The Silverblade Masters Academy goes where they want.”
Sorin narrowed his eyes, stepping forward alongside Tytus. “This territory was assigned to Warbringer by the City Overlord. You’re trespassing.”
The scarred young man with the greatsword let out a mocking laugh. “Territory assigned to Warbringer because your headmaster is sucking the City Overlord’s balls, that’s why. You think anyone actually believes you deserve it? Your academy’s weak—always has been.”
Torrid’s fists clenched, his knuckles white as he restrained himself from charging forward. Diego stepped closer, placing a steadying hand on Torrid’s arm to hold him back.
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Jackson, predictably trying to diffuse the situation in his usual, nervous fashion, piped up from behind the others. “Hey, uh, maybe we could all just… you know, forget this ever happened? We’ll just head back to our side, you head back to yours, no need to turn this into a—”
The silver-haired leader cut him off, his lips curling into a grin. “Oh, no. I think we’ll be staying right here. Seems like your academy is too weak to even defend its own territory.”
Sorin’s group bristled at the insult, and Tytus, never one to back down, took a threatening step forward. “You want to test that theory, huh? I’m more than happy to show you just how wrong you are.”
The tension in the air thickened as the two groups stared each other down, the verbal confrontation escalating quickly.
The short-haired girl rolled her eyes, clearly bored by the conversation. “Warbringer Academy’s just a bunch of relics. You think just because you’ve been here forever, you own the place? The only reason you still have any territory at all is because you’re cozy with the City Overlord. Everyone knows it.”
Torrid, his patience now at its breaking point, stepped forward. His voice was low and dangerous. “Say that again, and we’ll see how well you can talk with your mouth full of broken teeth.”
The scarred greatsword wielder sneered, lifting his weapon from his back. “You think you can take me, big guy? You Warbringer kids talk a lot, but I’ve seen your kind—full of bark, no bite. I’ll break you in two.”
Sorin, maintaining his calm but ready for anything, addressed the silver-haired leader directly. “Leave now, while you still can. Otherwise, we’ll make you.”
The silver-haired leader smirked, unsheathing his sword, which glinted menacingly in the fading light. “I’d like to see you try.”
The tension in the clearing reached a breaking point, and before anyone could stop it, the confrontation exploded into violence. The air was filled with the sounds of swords being drawn, weapons clashing, and powers igniting.
The silver-haired leader stepped toward Sorin, his sword gleaming in the light filtering through the trees. He twirled it arrogantly, sizing Sorin up as though the fight were already over. “The name’s Aric Eversteel,” he said with a smirk. “You’d better carve that name into your mind, Warbringer. It’ll be the last thing you remember before you’re defeated.”
Sorin’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his own swords. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered, readying himself for the fight.
With a sudden burst of speed, Aric lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Sorin barely had time to react, blocking the strike with his twin swords. The impact of Aric’s attack sent a shockwave through his arms—Aric’s strength was greater than he expected. Sorin gritted his teeth, deflecting the blow and spinning away, countering with a quick slash aimed at Aric’s side.
Aric dodged nimbly, a smirk still playing on his lips. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
The fight between the two leaders was fierce and evenly matched, each testing the other’s defenses with calculated strikes. Aric moved with lightning speed, his blade a blur of silver, while Sorin relied on his agility and training, weaving through the strikes and waiting for an opening.
Meanwhile, the rest of the clearing had descended into chaos. Tytus immediately clashed with the short-haired girl wielding twin blades, her movements quick and precise. She was clearly skilled, darting in and out of range, her blades striking out like vipers. Tytus swung his staff, summoning gusts of wind to push her back, but she seemed unfazed, pressing the attack.
“Come on, you big oaf, is that all you’ve got?” she taunted, her eyes glowing with energy. She moved so quickly it was hard to tell what her powers were—there was a shimmering distortion around her, making her seem almost incorporeal at times.
Diego found himself facing one of the twins, that brother wielded daggers. The twin moved with a disturbing grace, darting through the shadows with unnatural speed, his blades flashing in and out of view. Every time Diego swung his scythe, the twin would vanish, reappearing just out of reach. The air around the twin shimmered, as if the shadows themselves were bending to his will.
As for Torrid, he was locked in combat with the brawny, scarred fighter, whose massive greatsword came crashing down with terrifying force. Torrid raised his shield just in time to block the attack, the impact sending a reverberating clang through the forest. The scarred man grinned savagely, clearly enjoying the challenge. Torrid responded with his own heavy blows, but the man was strong. He managed to hold his ground even against Torrid’s immense physical prowess.
“Finally, someone who can take a hit!” the scarred fighter roared, swinging his greatsword in a brutal arc that Torrid managed to deflect.
Jackson, meanwhile, had been trying his best to stay out of the main fighting, using his illusions to confuse the other twin. The twin was fast, darting in and out of Jackson’s vision, his short swords gleaming as he closed in. Jackson cast Phantom Army, filling the clearing with illusionary warriors, hoping to overwhelm his opponent’s senses with sheer numbers.
But the twin was quicker than he anticipated. The illusions distracted him for only a moment before he honed in on the real Jackson, cutting through the phantoms with precise strikes. Jackson’s heart pounded in his chest as he barely dodged a swing aimed at his neck. He used Fleeting Illusion to vanish into a ghostly form, but the twin was relentless, tracking him through the shifting battlefield.
“Where are you running, little coward?” the twin sneered, his voice cold and mocking. “I thought you Warbringers were supposed to be tough.”
Jackson reappeared a few feet away, sweat beading on his forehead. “I’m not tough! I’m smart!” he shouted, throwing out another illusion to confuse the twin. But the illusion flickered, his spirit running low from all the exertion. The twin closed the distance quickly, his daggers flashing.
Before Jackson could react, the twin’s dagger slashed across his arm, drawing blood. Jackson let out a cry of pain, stumbling backward. The twin moved in for the kill, his daggers raised to strike.
“Goodbye, coward,” the twin hissed, his blade aimed straight for Jackson’s heart.
Panic surged through Jackson’s veins. His illusions flickered out, his wand trembling in his hand as he raised it in a desperate attempt to fend off the fatal blow. But it was too late—the twin’s blade was already descending.
And then, in a blur of motion, Sorin was there.
Breaking away from his fight with Aric, Sorin moved faster than he ever had before. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, his twin swords flashing through the air. In one swift, brutal motion, Sorin’s blade pierced the twin’s chest, the force of the blow driving the dagger-wielding boy backward.
The twin’s eyes widened in shock as blood spilled from the wound, his body crumpling to the ground with a soft thud. For a moment, the clearing fell deathly silent.
Jackson stared, wide-eyed and trembling, at the lifeless body of the twin who had been moments away from killing him. He clutched his injured arm, his breathing ragged. “I… I almost…”
The clearing fell into a heavy, tense silence as the reality of what had just happened sank in. Sorin stood frozen for a moment, his swords still slick with the blood of the fallen Silverblade twin.
The Silver-haired leader, Aric Eversteel, was the first to break the stunned silence, his face twisted in a mixture of shock and rage. "You’ll pay for this, Warbringer! You’ll all pay for this!" he screamed, his voice shaking with fury. He quickly gestured for his remaining companions, who grabbed the body of their fallen comrade, hoisting it between them. "We’ll make sure everyone knows what you’ve done!"
With that, the Silverblade Masters turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows of the forest, their threats lingering in the air.
Sorin remained still, his heart pounding in his chest as the echoes of the battle faded away. His friends stood around him, their expressions a mix of shock and concern.
“Damn it,” Sorin muttered under his breath, sheathing his swords with a sharp motion. “This is going to backfire on me.”
Tytus, ever the voice of boisterous reason, sighed heavily. “Yeah, no doubt about that, but there’s nothing we can do now.” He looked at the bloodstains on Sorin’s clothes, his own expression serious for once. “They went too far. That twin was trying to kill Jackson. None of the others were fighting to kill, just to assert dominance or humiliate us, but that guy… he crossed the line.”
Jackson, still clutching his injured arm, shakily nodded in agreement. His voice was quieter than usual, lacking his usual wit. “He… he was going to kill me. I… I didn’t think it would go that far.” He swallowed hard, his eyes filled with gratitude as he looked at Sorin. “Thank you. You saved my life.”
Sorin just gave him a small nod, his mind still racing with the consequences of what had just unfolded. “Mention nothing of it. I would do it again for any one of you and I have no doubt all of you would do the same.”
Diego, always calm and collected, spoke up, his tone measured but serious. “We need to go back to the academy. We have to report this. My mother can help us handle it.” He looked at Sorin directly, his gaze steady. “This is going to get messy, Sorin. They’re going to spin this in their favor if we don’t act quickly.”
The group nodded in agreement, their earlier excitement from the hunt now long gone, replaced by a somber understanding of the gravity of the situation. They turned and made their way back through the forest, their footsteps heavy with the weight of what had happened.
When they finally arrived at Warbringer Academy, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the training grounds. The group headed straight for Johanna Fenton’s office, knowing that she was the best person to help them navigate the fallout of the fight.
They entered her office, where Johanna sat behind her desk, focused on a stack of paperwork. She didn’t look up immediately, her quill scratching against the parchment. “Give me a moment,” she said, her voice calm and professional, “I just need to finish this.”
But when she glanced up and saw their faces—and the blood covering Sorin’s clothes—her demeanor changed instantly. She set her quill down and pushed the papers aside, her eyes filled with concern. “What happened?” she asked, her voice laced with urgency.
Sorin took a breath, his heart still pounding. “There was… an incident in the forest. With students from Silverblade Masters. They were trespassing in our territory, and things got out of hand.”
Jackson, still pale and holding his injured arm, added, “One of them… he was going to kill me. Sorin—he had no choice. He… killed one of them.”
Johanna’s expression grew grave, and she rose from her chair, her full attention now focused on the group. “Tell me everything. Leave nothing out.”
Tytus, stepping forward, quickly recounted the events, his voice serious but unwavering. “They were clearly here to provoke us, and while most of them were just fighting to assert dominance, one of the boys went too far. He targeted Jackson with the intent to kill. Sorin acted fast and stopped him, and… ended up killing him.”
Diego added quietly, “It wasn’t like the others were pulling their punches, but none of them were fighting to kill. Except that one.”
Johanna listened carefully, her expression hardening with each word. When they finished explaining, she took a deep breath, her mind already working through the implications. “This is bad. Very bad,” she said, her voice steady but filled with concern. “The Silverblade Masters are going to use this against us. Even though you were defending yourselves, they’ll twist the story to make it look like you attacked them without provocation. Every academy has been caught trespassing before so it's a pretty minor infraction, but the situation ending up with the death of a student is going to cause a storm.”
Sorin clenched his fists at his sides. “I had no choice, Johanna. I wasn’t going to let him kill Jackson.”
She nodded, her expression softening slightly. “I know, Sorin. You did what you had to do. But the political landscape between the academies is fragile, and this could spark something bigger.”
Jackson shifted uncomfortably, his voice quiet. “I’m really sorry, Sorin. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Sorin shook his head. “It’s not your fault, Jackson. None of this is.”
Johanna stood, crossing her arms as she considered the next steps. “We need to inform Zane and the academy leadership immediately. We’ll need to gather all the evidence—your accounts, any marks in the forest where the fight took place, and get ahead of whatever the Silverblade Masters will try to claim. I’ll contact my superiors, and we’ll make sure this is handled swiftly.”
Johanna reassured them one final time, her tone firm and determined. “This is something the faculty and academy will handle. We always protect our students.” Her words gave the group a little comfort, though they knew the situation was far from simple.
With a nod, Sorin and his friends left Johanna’s office, their spirits still weighed down by the gravity of what had happened. As they walked back to the dorms in silence, the tension among them slowly began to ease. Still, the injustice of the situation gnawed at them.
“It just doesn’t seem fair,” Sorin muttered, shaking his head. “They were the ones trespassing. They started the fight, and now we’re the ones who have to worry about the fallout?”
Diego nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, but there’s nothing we can do about it right now. The academies handle these things through their own channels, and if the Silverblade Masters spin the story like we expect, we’re going to be under fire for this.”
Tytus, always the optimist, sighed but smiled. “Well, we kicked their asses, so that’s something. But yeah, it sucks that we have to deal with the consequences.”
Then, in a moment that surprised everyone, Torrid—who had been unusually quiet—grunted and said, “Ain’t nothing to do ‘bout it. Strength makes right. Only way to get what we want is to have the bigger sword.”
Everyone stopped, blinking at Torrid as his words sank in. He normally did not speak so much.
Jackson, ever the prankster, gave Torrid an exaggerated look of shock. “Wow, Torrid, that was… surprisingly profound. You’ve got some brains in there after all, huh?”
Torrid, never one to appreciate sarcasm, scowled and reached out to grab Jackson by the collar. “What’d you say, skinny man?”
But Jackson was quicker. With a mischievous grin, he darted out of Torrid’s reach and took off down the hall, laughing as he went. “You’ll never catch me, Torrid! You’re too slow!”
Torrid let out a loud, frustrated growl and barreled after him, his heavy footfalls shaking the floor as he pursued Jackson. “I’ll squash you like a bug, Jackson!”
The rest of the group burst into laughter, and without hesitation, they chased after them, the weight of the earlier events momentarily forgotten in the chaos.
As they ran through the academy halls, their laughter echoed around them, and for a brief moment, they felt like normal students again—just friends, racing through the dorms without a care in the world. Even with the threat of what was to come, they still had each other, and for now, that was enough.